


Pull Over and Jam!

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Blue Oyster Cult, Music RPF
Genre: Car Ride, Chaos, Gen, bandfic, bored bass player, bored in the car, complete chaos, crackfic, don't fear the reaper, kick out the jams, nothing good can come out of that combination, on tour, pull over, roadside jam, stir crazy, stir crazy keyboardist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: It was an ordinary day on the road -that is, until chaos and war ensued. Eric wants to keep driving to the night's gig, but Allen and Joe are bored, and they insist on pulling over and jamming -right now! Who wins? It all depends on who can get Buck or Albert to side with them. (Pure, unadulterated crackfic)





	Pull Over and Jam!

**Author's Note:**

> Backed up from another site here.

Eric Bloom sat with his hands up on the top of the steering wheel, driving unyieldingly down the relatively empty highway. The windows were down all the way. With the heat of the day, the sun beating down on the road, and a dead air conditioning unit in the old, used van, the only way to keep the temperature inside halfway bearable was to drive at the fastest speed that wouldn't undoubtedly get them pulled over, and minimize stopping as much as possible.

They'd stopped about an hour ago at a gas station to refuel and use the facilities. In the course of a ten minute stop, Eric could have sworn the van's internal temperature had gone up ten degrees, and in the time they'd been back in the road, it had maybe dropped five. There was something about the excessiveness of it with the humidity that was wearing Eric's patience thin. He felt annoyed, almost desperate, and all he cared to do was keep driving until they arrived at the gig so that the drive today would be over and done with. They were about two hours away now -there would be no reason to stop and refuel again.

Buck Dharma was in the front passenger seat next to Eric. He had fallen asleep shortly after getting back in the van, and was now starting to open his eyes and stare out the window listlessly. The inner layers of his dark hair were clinging to the sides of his face and neck, damp with sweat. 

Eric couldn't help but feel sorry for Buck despite being miserably hot himself and not feeling well from it either. Buck's facial structure and short stature always placed some innocence in Buck that exaggerated his expressions.

In the back row of seats, boredom was manifesting itself as a bigger problem. Which wasn't hard to justify -all three sitting together were awake and not focused on driving.

Albert Bouchard sat directly behind Eric on the left side of the van. He twirled one of his drumsticks across his fingertips, back and forth, switching hands, focusing on his fingers as though completely mesmerized. Though it was a motion out of boredom, his interest made him appear relatively content for the time.

Allen Lanier sat beside Albert in the middle seat. That was a hoot -Allen in the middle seat. In some ways he was the awkward middle child of the band, with Eric and Buck being close, and the Bouchard brothers. Allen's nose was buried in a book, as he often was in the van. Or anywhere else that he wasn't playing an instrument, really. None of his bandmates had ever seen Allen without a book in his possession. By now, however, he'd already read through twice, and was beginning to flip listlessly, slower, looking up from time to time as if pleading for something interesting to appear up on the road. He looked every bit as miserable as Buck, but not so much in an endearing way as sickly. Allen always looked sickly to a degree as the result of his incredibly unfortunate physique, but his current position seemed to exacerbate it.

To the right of Allen and behind Buck, Joe Bouchard was fanning himself aggressively with a paper booklet that showed the itinerary, staring intently out the window for a distraction. He was done trying to hold himself over with anything else as Allen and Albert were. He was a stir crazy bassist, bored out of his mind, and in the world of Blue Oyster Cult, that meant nothing but trouble, because Joe Bouchard had a mind of his own. And right now, it was telling him he wanted a good reason to get out of the van and jam. 

It was something they often did on long paths between gigs -look for good opportunities to pull over and jam. Usually it happened when everyone was bored and needed to shake off some pent up energy, and they found something interesting going on along the side of the road to jam or play a couple of songs too. There were other advantages to that too -one being they were somewhat warmed up already and not rushing at soundcheck.

Joe had been on the lookout for the past twenty minutes. For a while, he hadn't seen anything incredibly interesting -just an empty road, grass fields on either side with an occasional lonely clump of trees and bushes, and an overcast sky that trapped so much humidity that it canceled out the cooling effect of the blocked sun.

However, there were trees starting to fill in on the side of the highway now as they were getting closer to a mountain range and the land got hillier in the distance. Overgrown, dark looking trees with thorny vines growing through stood on the sides, and they were getting thicker and thicker. The wind had twisted the limbs into odd, spooky looking shapes.

Better yet, the sky was beginning to get stormy looking now, and a light breeze animated the trees. There were even grackles flying around, letting off creepy screeches.

Joe decided it was the perfect background to have a jam off the side of the highway. Something spooky sounding in minor keys. Maybe A minor -that could even lead in and out of "Don't Fear the Reaper" to fit the ominous countryside. 

He'd found a good reason to get out and jam. That meant his next task was to wind up the nearest person in the van who was likely to back him up.

Joe cupped his hand around his mouth and leaned over to the left.

"Allen!" he whispered, barely audible. 

Allen looked up from his book, appearing stunned before whispering back. "Yeah, Joe?"

Joe pointed out the window. "Look," he murmured.

Allen took in the sight, before his mouth curled, pulling his hollow, bony cheeks up.

"Ooh, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he whispered, squinting his big, bugging eyes.

"Hell, yeah," hissed Joe, pumping his hand and making horns with it. "Do you want me to tell Eric to pull over, or do you want to."

Allen put his finger on his narrow chin, looking at Eric, who was still driving with the most intense look either of them had seen on him.

"How about you try first, and if you need help, I'll help," Allen whispered.

"Well, hopefully we can get him right away," Joe replied. He sat up straight and tall to peer over Buck's seat, then projected his voice loudly over the whipping of air through the windows and road noise.

"Hey, Eric!"

"What is it?" asked Eric.

"Pull over, would ya?"

Eric wrinkled his nose with confusion. He couldn't think of very many reasons why Joe would ask to stop this soon after a gas station, aside from the one reason that was anything but quick. And while he usually was care free enough to stop and fool around with the instruments for a few minutes, he wasn't in the mood at all now with how run down and exhausted he felt from all the heat. Despite having a pretty good feeling that was it, he asked Joe anyway in hopes it wasn't.

"What for? We just stopped an hour ago."

"Jam."

"No."

Next to Joe, Allen put his hands together in a begging position and leaned forward.

"Please, Eric?"

_"No."_

"Oh, come on!" Joe insisted. "Look at the landscape with all the birds flying around, and the dark clouds overhead-"

"No, Joe," repeated Eric. _Oh great. Both Joe and Allen. I wonder which one came up with the idea this time._

"No, Eric, pull over! The ambience is perfect!" Allen folded the page corner of his book and closed the cover, preparing to put his undivided attention on the battle. As much as he enjoyed reading in the van, he was becoming too bored with the novel to compensate for, and he was coming down with the phenomenon that Buck had dubbed "road wear". Getting up out of the middle seat squished between the Bouchard brothers, out of the van, and putting his hands on a guitar or keyboard was the only way to fix that now. Now that he was hyper, it was unquestionable that he was every bit, if not more stir crazy than Joe.

"I want to jam out too," piped up Buck, breaking his sleepy silence in the front seat. "It's boring on this road in the van. All we'd have to do is play one song, and we'd feel a lot more energetic the rest of the way."

"No, Buck, I trust you -but they'll keep asking to play more, and dragging a keyboard and drums back into the van is hard enough without having to do it in a rush if it starts raining."

"I'd like to, but we don't need to if we're in a hurry or if Eric says no," declared Albert, taking the middle road.

"We're not in a hurry to make it to our gig on time, but I don't want to play in the rain, and if we stop the van and let it sit, it's going to get hotter," Eric insisted.

"It'll feel good if we get rained on though!" argued Allen. "It would make it feel cooler coming back in with the windows down. And it's more fun to play in the rain when you don't have to worry about slipping on a stage floor!"

"Playing in a storm would look so neat too!" continued Joe, beginning to get excited. "Even without it raining like it is now, the dark sky, the mountains in the background, those trees and the wind-"

"Usually, I'd probably agree," Eric admitted. "But not today. I'm not feeling it. And this is a two lane highway -it's not good for pulling over."

"There's a huge shoulder on this side of the road starting up ahead!" insisted Joe, leaning forward and pointing to the side of the road. 

Allen came up with a pair of binoculars he'd pulled out from under the seat. Whenever he'd gotten them was a mystery to everyone else, but that was typical Allen Lanier.

"It looks like it's stretching for some odd miles ahead of us, and the ground is level with it -there couldn't be an easier place to pull over!" he exclaimed.

"Hey, give me those!" Joe snatched the binoculars from Allen, and leaning out the window, looked out around the outer part of the curve of the road, getting a sight of what was up ahead. Then he pulled them down and perked up, becoming doubly hyper, tossing them into Allen's lap -which made Allen grateful to have his book protecting him from a painful impact.

"There's even this cove between the trees a mile or so up ahead around the bend of the road that would be the perfect place to set up, and there are even more grackles flying around up there -I'm serious, Eric, pull over!" 

"No more. Guys, what did I tell you?" asked Eric rhetorically in a tone that dropped with sarcasm. "Allen, Joe, I said n-"

"No, I see it too!" Allen was looking with the binoculars now. "Eric, we have to stop there up ahead. Really!" After putting the binoculars back under the seat, Allen slid his book off his lap, setting it down between himself and Joe before releasing his seat belt and started to lift up.

"Allen, I wouldn't recommend that..." warned Albert, but it was too late.

Joe snickered aloud, leaning forward and holding Allen's bony hips to steady him as he thrust his lanky body through the front seats, reaching forward and acting like he was going to grab the steering wheel. Even though he wouldn't actually do that and risk crashing them, it was more than enough to drive Eric crazy.

Buck turned back around from the window, a crazed look of confusion and amusement filling his eyes.

"Allen, what are you doing?!" he asked, trying to keep from laughing as Eric was getting visibly upset.

"What _are_ you doing?" repeated Albert. "That's a good question, Buck. Allen, don't. Joe, don't help him-"

Ignoring them entirely, Allen kept lightly touching the top of the steering wheel with his fingertips in a teasing, clawed position, snickering evilly and leaning heavily on Eric's shoulder.

"Allen, stop! Get off me," demanded Eric, holding the wheel with his right hand and reaching across himself with his left, delivering a wicked pinch on Allen's arm. "Lanier, you are such a jerk!"

Allen continued to lean forward between the front seats, not one bit taken aback.

"Allen, _stop."_ repeated Albert.

"No, Allen, don't stop!" shouted Joe, encouraging him. "Don't stop until the van stops!"

Allen got up off of Eric and leaned further so that Joe had to grab onto his legs rather than his hips. He propped his hands up on the top of the dashboard radio console, reached over with his left hand, and gave the windshield wiper control stick a good knock so that washer fluid shot out onto the windshield and the wipers started going. After which, he proceeded to poke Eric in the shoulder. He'd effectively made it so that Eric had to take his foot off the accelerator all the way to hover over the brake, and the van was now slowing down to an idling crawl.

"You heard him, Eric; pull it over!" he said in a sluggish but amused tone that made him sound drunk and stoned out of his mind even though he wasn't currently. Maybe he was a little strung out from heat exhaustion and boredom, but nothing else.

"Stop it, Allen!" Eric growled. "I'm serious; we're NOT STOPPING. Sit back down, damn it! And Joe, it's not funny!"

Joe was laughing wildly in the backseat now, gripping the edge of his seat hard with the force of it. He'd completely let go of Allen's legs now so that Allen was leaning even further forward and untethered. It was impossible to tell if the wet, salty tracks running down the sides of his face were sweat from the extra exertion of laughing added to the uncomfortable heat, or tears of pure mirth.

"Joe, be quiet!" Albert reached over behind Allen and socked his little brother in the arm. He only succeeded in making Joe laugh harder.

Allen shoved his face against the windshield glass and swiped his arms over the inside of the windshield, mimicking the wipers, reaching down on one descending stroke to turn on the flashing hazard lights. He was wearing the wildest grin, eyes bugging out behind his rounded glasses, angular jaw parted and thin lips pulled back as far as they'd go, fully exposing his frightening malocclusion. Any cop that dared to try pulling them over for Allen being up out of his seat would be scared out of his wits and would think twice about stopping them. Maybe that was the one thing working in Eric's favor. Unfortunately, that didn't make the situation any less crazy, or dangerous for him at the moment.

"ALLEN!" roared Eric, struggling to steer the van and see out the windshield between Allen's arm waving and the washer fluid. "GET BACK IN YOUR SEAT! And GET YOUR SEAT BELT _BACK ON!"_

"To be fair, Eric, when you're in the backseat and I'm driving, you don't usually wear it," quipped Albert. "Not sure if you have much business telling him to put his on!"

"I don't need to be restrained to make me stay in my seat and not try and fucking get us killed! Apparently, he does! What is with you all today?"

Buck couldn't resist any longer. He flopped forward under Allen's reach, hiding his face in his lap so he wouldn't upset Eric any more. Tremors went through his frame as he laughed and muffled himself in his arms.

Allen perched his arms on the console and as if on cue, sang aloud in his deep drawl of a voice:

_"We can be like they are..."_

Buck sat up, and through their laughter, he and Joe attempted to sing the alternating lines with Allen.

_"...Come on baby..."_ Buck's voice was mostly steady, but he was fighting hard to control it from cracking by the strain in it.

_"...Don't fear the reaper..._ Allen tilted his head back for effect.

_"...Baby, take my hand..._ Hamming it up, Joe closed his eyes delicately with an expression of lust and stretched his hand out over the back of Buck's seat.

_"Don't fear the-" oof!"_

"And you stay back there!" Finally, Eric managed to sit Allen down with a single handed hard shove into his stomach and a good stomp on the accelerator. Allen slammed back down hard in his seat, shoving his pointy elbow into Joe's ribs before sliding down so that he was a one inch slide away from falling off and sitting on the floor, dizzy and dazed from being slung back so fast.

"Ow! OHHH, you guys are _NO FUN at all!_ Joe scolded through a whine. "What a bum!"

Albert shook his head with amusement.

"You guys are crazy..."

Joe started laughing again in a light, hyper way that was almost giggling. 

"Albert, you and I grew up together, and the five of us have been together how long...? How'd you _not_ know we were crazy before now?"

"I know it, bro -trust me, we're all crazy, but you guys are looney toons right now." Cautiously, Albert leaned forward to look around the back of the seat next judge if Eric was still fuming. "Oh, look!" he cried, erupting in laughter and pointing forward at the windshield.

There was a sweaty, smeary print where Allen had pushed his nose and forehead against the glass.

"That's what you get for not pulling over!" Joe cried out, flailing back in his seat and losing it again, with his brother this time.

"Wait, what...?" Starting to reorient himself, Allen pushed himself back into an upright position in his seat.

Eric sighed, already well aware of the mark and being exasperated by it.

"Buck, reach me that washcloth out of the glove box so I can clean the windshield up!" he groaned, beginning to sound defeated.

Buck flipped open the glove compartment drawer and went digging through it.

"Aw, and we're going to miss it too if we don't stop soon," complained Joe, seeing the edge of the dark clouds ahead in the distant sky, and the opening in the trees coming into close proximity, knowing that once Eric got up to full speed, it would be mere minutes before the storm would be behind them. Already, they were pushing it on how much longer those blackbirds would be around. He sank back in his seat to lean on the window and pouted.

"We're still going to stop before we get there..." he murmured, already searching for something else that caught the right mood.

Allen picked up his book and opened it up with a low moan. He looked rather nauseated, though it was still possible to chalk it up to his normal appearance.

"Eric, this thing is packed full of all kinds of shit, and I can't find it without pulling everything out. And even if I could find it, it would be easier to clean if we pulled over," tried Buck. "We could not only jam real quick, but we could clean the windshield better too."

"No." Eric shook his head.

Buck slowly looked up at Eric with his big, innocent eyes.

"Please?" he asked quietly. 

Eric tried to stay persistent on his answer, but when Buck leaned his cheek on the side of the seat, seeming to wilt in disappointment, it did him in.

With a sigh, Eric pulled the van over to the side of the road, slowing to a stop and throwing it out of gear.

Before Buck could even undo his seatbelt so he could get up and clear the glove compartment, Joe reached back into the cargo space, pulled his bass over the back of his seat and onto his shoulder, swung his door open, and hopped out onto the side of the road. A second later, Allen emerged next to him and slapped fives before running to the back doors of the van to grab his portable keyboard.

"Alright," surrendered Eric. "Albert, unpack your stuff so you're ready by the time Buck and I get this cleaned up, because those two aren't coming back in this van until we play something, and I'm hoping we won't have to play here in the rain."

As soon as Eric said that, the wind blew, and it started coming down in sheets. Way too hyper from the shenanigans in the van, Joe and Allen went bonkers again, posturing with their instruments now. They were kicking what Buck and Eric usually did -dueling with the fretboards, holding onto the bodies of their axes. Joe pumped a fist in the air in victory, having had an easier time pushing the neck of Allen's guitar downward with the weight of a bass.

"I told you we were gonna stop!" he shouted.

"Eric," started Albert, looking at the singer whose pout was only distinguishable from his mouth, his sunglasses hiding his dismayed eyes. "Don't you know that when you're on a road in the middle of nowhere, you never say aloud what you hope not to happen?"

Eric bent forward and ran his hands through his curls, causing the droplets of water landed in it to spray forward at Albert.

"Hey!" shouted Albert, ducking out of the way.

Eric snorted, amused by Albert's reaction and starting to perk up some.

"And that's what you get for lipping off about it. Go get your drums. I'll tell you what, if we're going to jam in the rain and it was Allen and Joe's idea, they can dry and clean them up after this!"

"I heard that!" shouted Allen.

Eric pulled his guitar out of the back of the van and shook his head.

"You made a mess on the windshield for Buck and I, so it's only fair. Now, since we're pulled over and out of the van-"

Buck took a flying leap out of the van, guitar already strapped on, running into the cove in the trees, before turning around to face everyone. As he did, a grackle swooped down just a couple of feet over him, and it looked like a scene out of a parody horror film of Edgar Allan Poe.

"Let's jam!"


End file.
